Ladies
by Invader Vega
Summary: Philostrate does and doesn't know what she wants. Philostrate/Flute, one-sided Philostrate/Demetrius


They had laughed at her when she asked to join in their revelry.

Philostrate did not know why she had asked in the first place. But as soon as the words left her mouth, the lowest creatures of Athens found mirth in them. She closed her eyes, and berated herself silently for being so foolish as to expose herself to scorn.

It was simply not something ladies did. At all.

They did not all laugh. One, a tall, lanky boy known to the others as Flute, who played the female lead in their otherwise atrocious show, and who had a soft voice and soft features did not even crack a smile. He simply looked at her with a careful, measured sort of longing. Later, Philostrate would think to herself that he simply disliked playing female parts and wished for someone to lift his burden. Their eyes touched briefly, fleetingly.

Philostrate wanted an escape. She wanted to be someone else, someone who had a glamorous life or fabulous riches or even a paramour that she was forbidden to see. She wanted excitement. She wanted a heartbeat.

As the others dispersed to prepare for their surely horrendous performance, Flute took a step towards her. He took a step back. Then two steps forward. For reasons she could not name, Philostrate's breath caught in her throat.

He had somehow drawn quite close to her. She noticed that he was rather tall - tall enough to lean his head on hers or to wrap his arms around the top of her waist, just below her bosom. She stopped herself from these thoughts. A lady did not think like that.

He coughed. He opened his mouth, but no sweet prose of love poured from his mouth.

"Thank you for letting us have a chance," he whispered. Perhaps it was not a whisper. Perhaps his voice was naturally quiet. "I should like to see you tonight."

Philostrate gave him a curt nod, and regretted her eyes.

---

She told the Duke that they were terrible. She recommended he choose a different show.

She didn't know why she tried to chase them away. What did she fear? Seeing the quiet boy actor again?

No. Yes. Maybe.

She did not want to be prey to such mockery again. Not from that ass, their ringleader.

Yes. That was why.

---

Philostrate had not realised that Demetrius had also married that day.

To Helena, no less. That skinny little weeping crow of a woman. She had believed that Demetrius felt nothing for the girl. He had said as much the day before, when he had come in to demand the lady Hermia's hand.

Philostrate had spoken to Demetrius before. He was smug, sure, and powerful. She hung on his every word. Most of his words were dedicated to Helena, and then to Hermia. She had hoped that perhaps he would grow bored of Hermia and would turn his attention to her.

He had grown bored, apparently. But he did not turn to the new. Instead, he ran to the old.Philostrate had been foolish to hope otherwise. But when she saw him, she could not think coherently. He was beautiful.

Philostrate did not have much of a way with words like the noble girls. But he _was_ beautiful...incredibly, stunningly beautiful.

Helena and Hermia. Two maidens as undeserving of the title of lady as anyone Philostrate had ever seen. Helena was a weak, whining little shrew. She chased a man who had spurned her without any guilt or shame that he had left her in the first place for being obviously deficient. Hermia was a headstrong little upstart who refused to obey her father and Demetrius.

Philostrate could not understand why any lady would ever leave Demetrius for someone else.

---

She watched them file out of the ballroom where the play had commenced.

She looked at the young boy Flute, who had taken off his wig and now looked into her eyes with that same longing, tempered with tenderness that she had not seen in the forest. She considered going to him, but could not make her feet move towards that which she wanted.

Demetrius too, looked at her. He had an arm around his new wife, long hair close to askew, and he looked into Helena's eyes with love. Then he turned to her - turned to Philostrate - and looked into her eyes as well.

He asked her for forgiveness.

She did not hear him speak or see him move his lips, but she could feel it in his eyes. They had pity, affection, and apology all swimming in the depths of those emerald seas.

He turned back to Helena, and broke the short-but-long glance.

Philostrate wondered what made them ladies but made her a civil servant.

---

She walked to her room alone, after supervising the cleaning of the ballroom.

In her ear, there was a wordless whisper. She turned quickly, but saw no shadow in the darkened hallways. Or indeed, no shade. Clever little blighters.

The whisper came again, but this time it formed words.

"You are a lady because you have the will to go after what you want. Do not abandon hope. Find what you want. Take it."

Philostrate was silent.

The shade that she couldn't see vanished in a puff of nothing.

She looked at the shifting shadows in the hall, and said an oath to Diana.


End file.
